


You Are My Sunshine

by iamjacksblindrage



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Fluff, Light Bondage, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-12-13
Packaged: 2017-12-21 03:56:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 3,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/895501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamjacksblindrage/pseuds/iamjacksblindrage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Snapshots of Sherlock and Greg's life together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Greg is more than used to Sherlock showing up at his flat out of the blue, so when he gets home, he’s not in the slightest surprised to find Sherlock stretched out on his couch in complete darkness. Greg just sighs and sheds his jacket, hanging it by the door and then clicking on a lamp.

"Dontchu have your own flat to go occupy, sunshine?"

Sherlock hums from the couch but makes no attempt to reply or move. Greg goes about untucking his shirt, unbuttoning the cuffs and the top few buttons on his way to the kitchen. He flicks on the kettle, and then heads down the hall to his room. He strips, changing into a pair of loose sweats and an old t-shirt before heading back into the kitchen as the kettle boils. He sets about making two cups of tea, even though he doesn’t expect Sherlock to drink his.

He pads softly back into the lounge, sets one mug on the side table next to Sherlock’s head, and nudges at the man’s feet. He obediently lifts them long enough for Greg to settle in and then promptly drops them into his lap. Surprisingly, Sherlock reaches for his mug and sips at his tea. Greg rubs his bare ankle with his free hand while he nearly gulps down his tea.

"Long day?"

Greg groans and flops his head back against the couch.

"You have no idea."

Sherlock slides the mostly empty mug from Greg’s grasp and sets in on the coffee table. He clambers into the DIs lap, a suspicious smile on his face.

"I could help you forget about it," Sherlock whisper in his ear, dropping his voice an octave. 

"Sherlock, please. I just wanna relax. Can we just curl up together? Can you handle that?"

Sherlock nods against Greg’s collarbone, rather disappointed. Greg presses a kiss to the wild mass of hair in his face and strokes the man’s back softly. Sherlock suddenly pulls away, getting to his feet before offering a hand to Greg. Greg takes the man’s hand and lets himself be pulled down the hall into his bedroom. Sherlock pulls back the duvet, pressing Greg down into the bed before following. Greg’s mildly surprised when Sherlock basically becomes an affectionate octopus, pulling Greg close and wrapping all of his limbs around the Inspector.

"You ok, sunshine? You’re not, like, dying of something, are you?"

Sherlock chuckles, kissing Greg’s forehead. 

"You’re an idiot, Greg. Relax. Go to sleep. You need it."

Rather reluctantly, Greg relaxes into Sherlock’s embrace. Sherlock strokes the elder mans back and speaks to him in a soft voice he reserves only for the Detective Inspector and before he knows it, Greg is out cold against his chest. He kisses the man’s silver hair with a smile before slipping into a light doze.


	2. Chapter 2

Greg woke up the next morning rather warm and drowsy. He was glad it was his day off, he wanted to enjoy a lie-in after yesterday. Somehow, Sherlock was still curled up next to him, so Greg rolled closer to the man’s warmth. Sherlock stirs, pulling Greg closer and nuzzling his hair.

"Good morning, mon renard argentè," he murmurs, his deep baritone vibrating against Greg’s scalp.

"Morning, sunshine," Greg yawns into the younger man’s sternum. The detective chuckles and strokes Greg’s back slowly. The pair lay together in a warm silence and Greg’s surprised that Sherlock sits still as long as he does. He peers over Sherlock’s shoulder to see the clock when the consultant starts to fidget. He see it’s nearly 10:30 and loosens his grip on the other man, letting him roll out of bed. Greg watches Sherlock strip off his shirt and eyes the muscles rippling across his back as he stretches and how Greg’s sweats hang low around Sherlock’s hips, exposing a strip of the young man’s dark pants.

Sherlock turns to look at Greg over his shoulder and smirks. Greg flushes and pulls his gaze away from Sherlock’s half naked form and buries his face in the pillow. Blood rushes to his face and groin and while Sherlock’s a grown man, the 12 year difference between the detectives makes Greg a bit embarrassed about how much Sherlock turns him on. The bed sinks under Sherlock’s weight and he reaches up to stroke the soft hairs at the nape of Greg’s neck.

"Hey," he mutters. "No need to be ashamed." His breath is hot against Greg’s neck and the DI shudders in delight. Sherlock nips and kisses at Greg’s tan neck, urging him to roll over and when he finally does, Sherlock clambers over him, straddling the older man’s hips. Greg rolls his hips up to press his erection against Sherlock lovely arse and Sherlock smirks, wiggling his hips just a bit in response. Greg involuntarily thrusts up against Sherlock with a whimper. The younger man chuckles and lets his cool fingers creep up under the DI's shirt.

Soon enough, Greg’s shirts off, as well as his and Sherlock’s sweats and the pair are gasping against each other’s lips as they rut together in just their pants. Even under half-lidded eyes, Greg can see that Sherlock’s pupils are blown so wide that his iris is all but invisible.

"Greg," he pants against the DIs ear. "Greg, please. Fuck me. Let me ride you."  
Greg groans and thrust his hips up against Sherlock’s. The detective reaches into Greg bedside table and comes back with a condom and a tube of lubricant. He sets them aside to slide down and slip Greg’s pants off and then kick off his own. The first contact of Sherlock’s bare erection against his makes Greg let loose a choked moan. It’d been so long since the pair had had sex because Sherlock had been on a case and God, now the wait turned out to be incredible gratifying. Greg made quick work of stretching the consultant open and after rushing to roll the condom on, Sherlock sank down onto Greg’s cock with a whimper. Sherlock intertwined their fingers together before slowly rocking his hips against Greg’s.

His movements are languid and warm, his kisses sleepy and sloppy. It’s everything morning sex should be. Unrushed and imperfect.

"Oh, God, Sher-," Greg whines, planting his feet on the mattress for leverage. Sherlock’s gasps and then groans at the change of angle, going boneless against Greg. It doesn’t take long before Sherlock’s coming all over his and Greg’s stomachs, keening loudly against Greg’s neck. Greg follows closely, Sherlock contracting around him sending him straight over. The pair lay together, gasping against each other’s skin for a long moment, until Sherlock slides off of Greg, and out of bed. Greg pulls off the condom and ties it off, dropping it into the bin next to the bed, under the nightstand. Sherlock steps back into the room with a damp flannel and a clean belly and proceeds to wipe up the mess on Greg’s abdomen. After, he dumps the flannel over the edge of the bed and flops down next to Greg. He curls up against Greg’s side and lays there.

"You alright, sunshine?"

Sherlock nods against Greg’s chest and leans into Greg’s fingers combing through his curls. Sherlock just lays there, not much but for the rise and fall of his chest, for close to an hour. Until Greg’s stomach growls loudly and the pair crack up laughing.

"Come on," Sherlock says, rolling out of bed. "Let’s get some food in you."


	3. Chapter 3

"Can I come stay with you?"

"You’ve never asked before, why are you starting now?"

"It’s going to be an extended period of time this time around..."

"Why?"

"John kicked me out and I’m not allowed back at Baker Street for an indefinite amount of time."

Greg sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. He was incredibly behind on paperwork and he knew it would be a late night. This phone call just made his day much more complicated.

"Alright, but I’m at work right now and when I get home, were laying down some ground rules, ok?"

"When will you be home?" Sherlock’s voice is soft and a bit sad and Greg closes his eyes.

"I’m not sure, sunshine. Late. I’m really behind because of that serial killers trial."

"Alright," the young man muttered. "I’ll find something to keep myself occupied until you get home."

"Keep it legal, Sherlock."

The line went dead and Greg sighed heavily before going back to his paperwork.

It was well after midnight when Greg finally unlocked the door to his flat.

"Sherlock?" He called as he kicked his shoes off just inside the door. A dark mass Greg hadn’t seen on the couch jerked and sat up to reveal Sherlock.

"Greg?" The man murmured groggily. Greg’s heart melted at the sight of the sleepy consultant and he herded the man off the couch and down the hall.

"To bed with you. We'll talk in the morning."

Sherlock flopped down on the bed, fast asleep again and Greg was quick to change and crawl in next to him.

When Greg woke up the next morning, Sherlock was still in bed in a state of half-consciousness. Greg smiled and stroked the detective’s dark hair and murmured small endearments against his forehead. Sherlock woke up slowly but surely under Greg’s ministrations.

"What were your ground rules for my staying here?"

"No violin playing between midnight and 6 am. No experiments that will damage my appliances or my kitchen table. Try to keep your comings and goings to decent times of day. No cigarettes. No body parts in my fridge. No firearms."

Sherlock groaned loudly and his face scrunched up in annoyance. Greg chuckled and kissed Sherlock’s forehead.

"This is what happens when you upset your flat mate enough to get kicked out, sunshine."

Sherlock continued to grumble unhappily for some time before he rolled out of bed and walked out of the room. There was an alarming amount of clattering and crashing going on in the kitchen and Greg was really quite reluctant to go inspect the source. Some time later, though, the clattering stopped and the sound of bare feet slapping the hardwood announced Sherlock’s arrival. He was carrying a tray, loaded down with both tea and coffee, toast and jam, eggs, sausage, bacon and, oddly enough, a couple of scones. Sherlock set the tray on Greg’s lap and perched on the edge of the bed.

Greg smiled fondly up at Sherlock, picks up the cup of coffee and thrusts the tea in Sherlock’s direction. Sherlock sips the tea slowly, watching Greg munch on his breakfast contentedly. Once Greg leaned back against the headboard, nudging the tray away slightly, Sherlock stood, picked up the tray and leaned forward to kiss the DIs forehead.

"Thank you," he whispered before sweeping out of the room to do the washing up.


	4. Chapter 4

A week after John kicked Sherlock out, he meets up with Greg for drinks at a pub about halfway between their flats. Greg buys the first round.

"So what’d he do, then?"

John sighed heavily and set his pint on the table.

"I was just so sick of him blowing things up and trashing the flat. Mary thinks I have an overly energetic child and not a fully grown flatmate living with me."

"I know, mate. He’s yet to ruin my flat, but I think it’s more because he knows it’s me or Mycroft, and he’s not going to get laid at Mycroft’s."

John chuckles and downs the rest of his beer in one go, and orders the next round.

"How are things with you and Mary, then?"

"Bloody wonderful. Even better now that Sherlock’s not hanging around the flat, if ya get me."

Greg grimaces and nods with a chuckle.

The pair of men have a grand time. They chat and laugh and joke. Both are fairly well drunk by the time they depart from the pub, going their separate directions.

When Greg finally makes it into his flat after a good bit of fumbling, he spots Sherlock, sprawled on the couch, thinking. Greg grins and staggers in the other man’s direction. He clambers over Sherlock and begins pressing kisses to the man’s neck and jaw and lips and Sherlock makes a slightly agitated sound in the back of his throat. Greg giggles and continues his sloppy kissing. When Sherlock starts kissing him back, Greg lets his hands wander to Sherlock belt and starts trying to pull it off. Sherlock gathers his wrists in one hand and yanks them away.

"I’m not having sex with you while you’re this drunk. You won’t remember it."

Greg whimpers and whines and burrows down against Sherlock’s neck, but the detective doesn’t give, and eventually, Greg falls limp against Sherlock’s chest. With a bit of finagling, Sherlock manages to get Greg into bed and he returns to the living room. 

Greg wakes up the next morning to a pounding headache and a cold, empty bed. He groans and rolls over. The bed isn’t even rumpled on Sherlock’s side, so he was never in it, which means he never slept. Greg cracked an eye and spotted a glass of water and a bottle of paracetemol on the night stand. He smiles, glad to know that even is Sherlock didn’t come to bed, he was still thinking of the DI. Greg takes the pills and gulps down the whole glass of water, and rolls back over into bed.

The bed dips next to him, and a warm, long fingered hand cards through his hair. He hums and turns his head into the hand. Sherlock’s deep chuckle sounds over him. Greg rolls over into him, burying his nose into the detective’s hip.

"Good morning," the man rumbles above him.

"Mornin', sunshine," Greg groans against his hip. Sherlock’s hand is heavy and warm against his skull and he hums softly.

"Are you alright?" Sherlock murmurs, his hand still on the crown of Greg’s head. Greg nods and burrows closer.

"Have you learned your lesson from this?" Sherlock implores.

"Definitely not," Greg mumbles into Sherlock’s clothed hip.

Sherlock chuckles.


	5. Chapter 5

                Greg loved his mornings off.  Having a bit of a lie in and then getting up, making a piping hot cuppa and reclining into his arm chair with some toast and the paper.  Today, the sun was shining in the front windows, lighting up the sitting room.  Greg had thrown the windows open to let in the cool morning breeze.  The flat was quiet and calm and Greg couldn’t help smile.

                “Gregory, I swear, when I get out of here, I’m going to murder you!”

                Greg’s smile widened and he polished off his toast, set aside his paper, and headed back into his bedroom to tend to the consulting detective.

                Sherlock was beautiful like this.  Each of his limbs were stretched out, tied to a corner of the bed, pulling every line of his body taut and taking away all his leverage.  His face was screwed up in half pleasure, half pain.  His beautiful cock was a wonderful shade of deep red against his pale belly, wrapped up tight in a lovely, black leather cock ring.  Over the sounds of Sherlock’s grunts and groans, he can hear the faint buzzing of the vibrating dildo Greg had pressed into Sherlock’s pretty little arsehole half an hour ago.  It was on its lowest setting, barely brushing Sherlock’s prostate, just enough to drive the consultant wild.  Sherlock’s lower lip looked likely to bleed, the way he was biting it.

                Greg admires the view for a few moments before he leans forward to turn the vibrator up a notch and twist it, pressing it more firmly up against Sherlock’s prostate.  Sherlock howls, back arching in a painful looking manner.  Then Greg slips the toy from Sherlock’s arse and switches it off, setting it on the bedside table.  Sherlock whimpers pitifully and his eyes clench shut.

                Greg sits on the edge of the bed and strokes Sherlock’s smooth, pale thigh.

                “You’ve no idea how gorgeous you are like this, sunshine,” Greg murmurs, trailing his fingertips up Sherlock’s stomach.

                “Please,” Sherlock begs.  “Oh god, please!”

                “Please what?” Greg leers over Sherlock.  The consultant whimpers.

                “Please, fuck me.  Let me come.  Oh, fuck!”

                “Well, since you asked so nicely.”

                Greg moves to untie Sherlock’s ankles, then moves the knots at the head of the bed from the corners to the center.  Then he smacks Sherlock’s hip.

                “C’mon, up and over, on your knees.”

                Sherlock whines, but complies, flipping over onto all fours with his bum in the air.

                “Look at that,” Greg comments, smoothing his hands over the pale flesh before him.  Then he hums, leans forward, and sinks his teeth into Sherlock’s backside.  The detective jolts, then whimpers loudly.  When he pulls away, there’s already blood rushing to the surface and Greg knows just how lovely a bruise it’s going to be.

                “Gorgeous,” Greg grins and Sherlock groans.

                Greg grabs the lube off the bedside table, unzips his trousers, pull out his rapidly hardening cock and gives it a few strokes.  After a moment, he slicks up his member and presses into Sherlock in one swift movement.  Sherlock mewls, arching his back and pressing back against Greg.

                Once he’s fully seated inside Sherlock, he stops.  Sherlock protests and tries to move, but Greg just grips his hip tightly.  Then he reaches around the man, unclasps the cock ring, and starts moving.  Sherlock absolutely howls, and his arms give out from under him.  Greg pounds into him, sharp thrusts that hit home every single time and it’s not long before Sherlock is screeching his name and coming.  Greg follows with a low groan against Sherlock’s spine.  Sherlock collapses on his front, heaving in breaths.  Hers still trembling when Greg slides out of him and unties his wrists.

                Greg strokes the consultants back, murmuring against the shell of his ear.

                “You’re so beautiful, sunshine.  Utterly gorgeous.”

                Greg gathers the consultant up in his arms and lays down, continuing his susurrus of praise.  Sherlock trembles, so far out of his mind.  Greg peppers his face and hair with butterfly light kisses until the young man falls still and his breath evens out.  Sherlock nuzzles against Greg’s throat while Greg continues to murmur praise.

                The pair lay there, enjoying each other, until Greg’s stomach begins to growl as it nears lunch time.


End file.
